


Heartbreak (Heartbeat)

by llewynn



Series: Corazon Week 2020 [2]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Corazon Week 2020, Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante Lives, Gen, SPOILERS FOR WANO ARC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25224460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llewynn/pseuds/llewynn
Summary: [special outfit]Law had Corazon’s name on his back when he went to war; now it’s his turn to have something of Law’s.
Relationships: Donquixote "Corazon" Rosinante & Trafalgar D. Water Law
Series: Corazon Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1821829
Comments: 5
Kudos: 105





	Heartbreak (Heartbeat)

When Corazon returned to the world of the living, it was with an unchanged appearance from the last time Law had laid eyes on him — Corazon at 26 years old, bruised and battered, smudged clown makeup still on his face and, more distressingly, dressed in a bullet-riddled shirt caked with blood. It was that, more than anything else, that snapped him out of the stunned fugue Corazon’s resurrection had landed him in; he’d barked sharp orders at his crew, making them sheathe their weapons and scatter across the submarine while Penguin and Shachi collared the Straw Hats (and blast them for bearing witness to the whole spectacle, he should’ve known they were never going to stay put; truly they were their incorrigible captain’s men) for some guarantee on their silence.

Law had dragged Corazon to the infirmary by the hand and Corazon had had the gall to look _happy_ , looking for all the world like it was his birthday and then some. “Well, this certainly brings back memories,” he said, and Law couldn’t help it.

“If you mean memories of hearing you die right in front of me while I was trapped inside a trunk, helpless to do anything, then sure,” he snapped back. He pushed the now-silent Corazon to sit on the bed and busied himself with rummaging through the cupboards for supplies, trying to keep his burgeoning tears at bay. Outside the infirmary, the submarine was alive with the noise from his crew; he could hear Penguin and Shachi’s mildly threatening voices from the next room, explaining the situation as vaguely as possible to the Straw Hats, while the engines rumbled back to life as the control team and mechanics worked to get the _Polar Tang_ moving to the next island on their way to Wano. 

Only he and Corazon were in the infirmary. Law clenched his jaw and pulled out antiseptics, bandages, a small basin and a clean towel. Behind him, Corazon said softly, “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” Law said, leaning his forehead against one of the cabinets, a sudden bone-deep exhaustion coursing through him. “You’re not sorry at all.”

“I’m not sorry I sacrificed myself for you.”

“Then _what_ are you sorry for?”

When Corazon didn’t answer, Law turned to look back at him. The look on Corazon’s face was a complicated mix of stubborn resolve and pained regret — not dissimilar to the look from thirteen years ago, the one that Law remembered seeing in that split second between Corazon’s goofy smile and the closing of the trunk lid over his head, hiding him from Doflamingo’s sight. 

It was as if he was back in that trunk again, a tiny child frail and sick with Amber Lead disease, trapped and helpless and _useless_. Unable to stop a monster from killing his most important person, the only person in the world he had left; he’d failed his parents and his classmates and Lami and now he was going to fail Corazon and he was going to be all _alone again_ —

“—aw? Law!” 

Warm hand wrapped around his, clenched tightly on his hat, the brim pulled down over his eyes. He was on the floor, his knees apparently having given out from under him. The basin with the supplies he’d brought out had slipped from his fingers, the bottle of antiseptic having rolled under the cupboard. He didn’t remember dropping it.

When he looked up, it was into Corazon’s stricken face. Still in that clown makeup. Still bruised and battered. But where there had once been desperation and a resolve for death, there was now concern and guilt and _life_ ; it was that and the burning warmth of Corazon’s hands over his that convinced Law that Corazon was really here, alive and _real_ in the _Polar Tang_ , and Law suddenly found himself on the verge of bursting into tears.

“Cora…”

Corazon pulled him into a tight embrace, pressing his face into his shoulder, and Law finally let himself go, tears soaking into the fabric of Corazon’s shirt. Corazon’s huge hand cradled the back of his head with the same gentle strength Law remembered from thirteen years ago; his ruined shirt smelled like blood and the faint smoke-singed smell that _screamed_ Corazon, and when he spoke Law felt the rumble of his deep voice reverberate throughout his body.

“I’m not sorry I saved your life, even if it meant I had to die for it.” Reflexively, Law’s hands — that he didn’t even remember moving — fisted in the back of Corazon’s shirt, gripping it tight. He felt Corazon pressing his cheek on the top of his head and sighing deeply.

“I _am_ sorry that it hurt you, however, and that it kept hurting you for so long,” Corazon added, and oh, Law could just hit him. 

“You died, Cora,” Law said. He couldn’t bring himself to be embarrassed at how scratchy his voice had gotten. “Of course it was going to hurt me. What the fuck else did you think it would do?” 

Corazon winced, a full-body flinch that Law felt, tightly wrapped in Corazon’s embrace as he was, and he laughed despite himself.

“You’re an idiot, Cora,” he said, and Corazon sighed again.

“No arguments with you there,” said Corazon resignedly. Law rubbed away the tears and snot on his face and gently pushed at Corazon’s shoulders; Corazon loosened his hold and began to move away, only for Law to clasp his hands and pull him to his feet. He stumbled a little on his ascent and his eyes were slightly red and puffy, which made Law smile. 

“Are you hurt, Cora?” Law looked over the other man with a critical eye; it had been thirteen years, after all, and Corazon had already died from the gunshot wounds that Doflamingo had inflicted upon him. It shouldn’t pose any more problems. But then again, who knew what particulars a resurrection brought about by a Devil Fruit would bring, and it never hurt to be sure.

Corazon patted a hand over his chest, gingerly prodding at the spots where Doflamingo’s bullets had pierced through him. “I don’t think so?” Corazon said tentatively. “I feel fine, at any rate.”

Law pushed him gently back towards the bed. “Go sit down,” he said. With a muttered _Room_ and a quick _Shambles_ , the scattered supplies on the floor reappeared in his hands before he set it aside on a nearby table. “I’ll do a full checkup on you and then you can go get cleaned up.” 

Corazon’s face brightened at that. “I can’t wait to finally get this makeup off.” He grinned, touching at the red paint on his mouth. “You have no idea how tacky this thing gets on your face.”

“No tackier than your shirt, I’m guessing.”

“Hey!” Corazon pouted.

Law let out a soft laugh despite himself. “Let’s start with that first, Cora. I need to make sure you’re alright.”

Pout still firmly on his face — and Law struggled not to laugh or burst into tears again, because oh _god_ how long had he dreamed of seeing that beloved, idiot face — Corazon began to unbutton the shirt, hesitantly pulling it off as if expecting the fabric to pull on his wounds. To their surprise, the gunshot wounds from Doflamingo had all but healed, leaving behind deep scars that seemed no different from the ones that were already adorning Corazon’s body. A careful _Scan_ revealed no bullets lodged inside his flesh either, and in fact marked Corazon in perfect health — if not a little exhausted and malnutritioned.

“How unusual,” Corazon mused. Law was inclined to agree. They fell silent for a while, both contemplating the mysteries and miraculous abilities of Devil Fruits, before some long-forgotten part of Law from when he was a child reared its head and he abruptly grabbed the towel beside him and threw it into Corazon’s face, causing the man to splutter indignantly. “What was that for?!”

“I still haven’t forgiven you for being an idiot, Cora,” Law said, pointing a finger at Corazon’s face, although his faint smile took away any real anger and hurt from his words. “Since you seem to be fine, go on and get yourself cleaned up. There’s a bathroom here you can use.” 

“What about clothes?” Corazon picked at his pants with a grimace.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll do something about it. Now hurry up; the sooner you’re done, the sooner I can introduce you to my crew.”

As he’d expected, Corazon’s face brightened immeasurably at those words, and he all but crashed into the bathroom in his haste to do Law’s bidding, leaving behind his tattered shirt on the bed. The shirt caught Law’s eye and he stared at it. The pink fabric was faded and stained red in places, the heart patterns rendered invisible by bloodstains, and looking at it hurt for some reason. It hurt, but he couldn’t look away.

Just as abruptly, Corazon crashed back out of the bathroom and into the infirmary. “Law, there are no towels—” he started before coming to a dead stop when he saw Law staring at his shirt. 

“Law? You alright?”

Law looked up at Corazon, at a sudden loss for words. He didn’t know how to articulate the pell-mell thoughts running through his head, how the shirt was both a blessing and a curse, a reminder that Corazon had both died and returned from death, and how much he didn’t want to come close to it even knowing it was nothing but a ratty, tattered old shirt. He didn’t know how to say any of it in a way that would make sense, but he didn’t have to. Corazon’s perplexed expression gave way to comprehension, and he picked up the shirt from where it lay on the bed. 

“Let’s burn it,” he said decisively. It was enough to jolt Law into a startled laugh, and Corazon smiled. “You’re right, it’s a tacky shirt. Best we get rid of it. You have a lighter in this place?”

“Not in the infirmary, Cora,” Law managed to push out, despite the grit in his throat. He cleared his throat before adding, “Are you sure you want to get rid of it? I know you don’t really have a problem with being tacky.”

“Brat.” Corazon flicked at Law’s hat before turning the shirt over and over in his hands, looking deeply contemplative. “This shirt doesn’t belong to me,” he said. “I’m not that Corazon anymore.” 

Law raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Corazon huffed. “I’m still Cora, sure, and I’ll always be Corazon, and I guess I’m still Donquixote Rosinante in the Marine records, but I’m not the Corazon from before anymore.”

“The holder of the Family’s Heart Seat, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Corazon shook his head. “I’m not the _top executive_ Corazon, I’m just… I’m just me.”

“Just Corazon,” Law echoed, nodding. “That works.” He looked at the shirt again and felt nothing. “We’ll find an island to dock,” he said, an idea forming in his mind. “We’ll dock somewhere and burn it on the deck, and then we’ll close that chapter of your life for good.” 

Corazon smiled. “The true end of the last of the Donquixote Family executives,” he agreed. “Sounds like a plan.” He tossed the shirt to Law, who caught it with one hand, before grinning wide.

“Now, what does a guy need to do to get a towel around here?”

Corazon wasn’t just tall — he was _lanky_ , with long legs and body that made finding clothes that would fit him in such short order somewhat of a challenge, but the taller members of Law’s crew managed to produce a few items that didn’t look half bad on him after some quick tailoring; the bottom half of a boilersuit that had been a little too long for Uni, a sweatshirt with the Heart Pirates’ jolly roger that they’d found stashed in the back of the men’s lockers, its owner long since forgotten, and a pair of boots from their ever-present collection of spares. The sweatshirt’s sleeves only reached his forearms and they had to open the hem of the pants to make it long enough for his legs, but overall it made for a decent enough appearance.

With the mismatched clothes and a face scrubbed clean of makeup, Corazon looked nothing like the old Corazon, the dangerously brutal top executive of the Donquixote Family. He looked like the Corazon who’d spent six months sailing the North Blue all so he could find a cure for a dying boy, who’d cried over the boy’s sleeping form and lamented for his pain, who’d given the boy courage to live again even when at death’s door. He looked like the Corazon that Law remembered and loved dearly, and the sight of him grounded Law enough to still his trembling hands.

“Nervous?” Corazon asked, looking concerned.

Law shook his head. “Not anymore,” he said, and he pushed the door open.

Inside the recreation room, the Heart Pirates leapt to their feet as one and pretended they hadn’t been avidly discussing the captain’s saviour returning from the dead, looking for all the world like butter wouldn’t melt in their mouth. Law rolled his eyes at Penguin and Shachi’s knowing looks, and he reached behind him to pull the dithering Corazon into the room.

“Crew, this is Corazon,” he said shortly. “Cora, this is the crew.”

Silence fell for a beat before the rec room exploded.

“Are you serious, captain?” Clione shouted from the back of the room. “Seriously? We’re doing this again?”

“Captain, you’re being rude!”

“The _disrespect!_ ”

“Law,” Corazon said, and the heavy look of disapproval had Law grinning under his hat. Before long, Corazon’s disapproving face and the looks of outrage levelled at him by his crew had him bursting into loud laughter.

The crew’s furore quietened gradually, with not a few looks of awe at their captain, so known for his dour temperament and morbid humour laughing so freely, even going so far as to playfully dodge Corazon’s swipe at his head. 

“Properly introduce us, captain,” Penguin finally piped up once Law’s laughter died down, an amazed sort of wonder in his grin. “Don’t be mean.”

“Yeah, alright.” Law chuckled. “Crew, meet Corazon. He’s the closest thing I’ve got to a father figure, but don’t bother treating him respectfully or anything.”

He didn’t bother dodging Corazon’s swipe at his head this time, the blow knocking his hat off and sending it flying. He brought it back to his hand with a _Shambles_ and jammed it back on his head.

“You’re a brat,” Corazon grumbled, before turning to the crew. “Law’s right, however. Please don’t treat me any differently than you would with a new recruit.”

“You’re joining us then?” Ikkaku asked. 

“Still time to go back to the Marines,” Law added, unable to stop himself, and Corazon made a face.

“No thanks,” he said. There was genuine distaste on his face and Law shrugged. He’ll get it out of Corazon later. 

“Well, Cora — you don’t mind if we call you Cora, right? Only that’s what the captain’s been calling you all this time…”

Corazon beamed. “Cora’s fine. Law talks about me?” he asked, to the collective scoff of the crew.

“All the damn time, you have no idea,” Shachi said. “It’s good to finally meet you, Cora! I’m Shachi.”

As Corazon gradually became enveloped in the chaos of the crew, each introducing themselves and trading questions, Law found himself leaning by the wall to watch them; this collision of his past and present, the most important person in his life then and the most important people in his life now. All the people he would sooner risk his life for were in one room, laughing and getting along and forging bonds. He didn’t quite know how to feel about that, other than a warmth in his chest so heavy it felt like he could suffocate under it.

Penguin sidled up next to him and bumped their shoulders together, and Law turned to see him grinning like a fool. “About time, eh, Law?” he said, and these were warm words from a friend, far removed from the heavy weight of their positions as captain and subordinate and all of its trappings. 

Law huffed out a laugh. “Thirteen years in the making,” he said, shaking his head. “I half thought it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Ehh.” Penguin made a see-sawing motion with one hand. “If anyone was going to make it happen, it’d be you. You’re the most stubborn guy I know, and that’s saying something.”

“Even more stubborn than Shachi?”

“Even more stubborn than Shachi.”

Said stubborn man in question was persistently hounding Corazon with non-stop inquiries, leading the crew in their innocuous interrogation. Law would feel bad for Corazon if he hadn’t been an undercover spy for the Marines; the man knew his way around interrogations, and nothing of this caliber was going to faze him.

The captain and his first mate watched as the crew welcomed their newest member with open arms, bringing him into their fold as if they’d known him forever — and perhaps they had, given how fundamental Corazon had been to the formation of the crew. Penguin nudged him again and said in an undertone, “I’ll make sure the next island we stop at has decent booze, yeah? For the celebration?”

Law replied in an equally quiet voice, “This is why you’re my favourite, Penguin.”

Penguin smirked before pulling his hat down over his eyes and making his way back to the crowd. “Alright, that’s enough,” he said, raising his voice to be heard over the din. “You’re overwhelming Cora,” absolutely nothing of the sort was happening, but it was as good an excuse as any, “so give him some room to breathe already, you idiots.” 

A chorus of boos greeted his words, but Shachi and co. eventually released Corazon from their inquisitive clutches. Corazon looked around the crowd, as if searching for something, and Law saw the exact moment when he spotted Law: relief in his eyes, followed by a spark of sheer joy and a slowly-widening grin that threatened to split his face, and Law couldn’t help but smile helplessly in turn when faced with such transparent happiness.

“Your crew is really something,” Corazon said, laughing as he approached Law.

Law shrugged. “They’re a bit rowdy, but you’ll get used to it.”

“Yeah,” Corazon said. His smile was quietly pleased. “I think I can really fit in here. It’s nothing like the Family.”

“Of course it’s not,” Law scoffed disdainfully. Like hell he’d ever lead a crew that was _anything_ like the Donquixote Family.

Corazon looked sheepish, but before long he became engrossed in the embroidery on the sweatshirt he was wearing. The Heart Pirates’ jolly roger was embroidered in yellow on the black fabric, a small but significant insignia on the left breast. He traced over it with a finger, a rapt wonder on his face.

“Is there something wrong, Cora?”

Corazon shook his head. “Nothing’s wrong,” he answered. “I’m just happy. You were wearing my name when you fought Doflamingo, and now I’m wearing your jolly roger.” He shrugged, looking pleased. “It’s nice.”

Law suddenly found it hard to breathe.

“You were there?”

There must have been something in his voice that Corazon heard, because he looked at Law and his face softened with understanding. “Yeah, Law,” he said softly. “I was there when you fought Doflamingo in Dressrosa.

“And you know what? I’m proud of you. I wish you didn’t almost kill yourself for it,” he said, blatantly ignoring Law’s derisive snort, “but I’m proud of you for doing what I couldn’t do then.”

The rest of the Heart Pirates had tactfully wandered away from them, voices raised in cheerful conversation about everything and nothing, with most of them clustered around Jean Bart and Menka in what was obviously a sham arm-wrestling match. It allowed Law to discreetly bring the back of his hand over his eyes, brushing away the tears he would vehemently deny existed. 

“Hey Law?”

“What?”

Corazon waited until Law raised his head to look at him before breaking into a wide, goofy grin. “Thank you for taking my brother down, and for all you did to bring me back,” he said, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “I love you, man!”

Law was too taken aback to say anything, until he felt the trickle of the first tear running down his cheek and heard the warm raucous laughter of his crew, no longer bothering to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. Corazon’s laughter was the loudest, warm and fond and filled with so much love, it made his heart soar.

He didn’t say it back. He didn’t have to.

“Stupid Cora,” he muttered, the trembling beginnings of a smile curling his lips, and Corazon understood, wide goofy grin and all.

**Author's Note:**

> This one was a doozy, folks. I wanted something that stayed true to the essence of the summary without making it too shippy (nothing against CoraLaw shippers, it's just not my thing and this is a purely gen series) and it took me _days_ to figure it out. Hope y'all like it.
> 
> Law is obviously a lot more light-hearted here than in canon, mostly because he's kept the hope of one day seeing Corazon again in his heart for the thirteen years he'd spent plotting his revenge against Doflamingo; it allowed him to be slightly more optimistic and open to joking around, as is evident with his interaction with Penguin. It's only when Corazon truly came back to life that he lets himself go, to the surprise and joy of his crew. They're a merry-making bunch, really. 
> 
> Regarding the crew calling Corazon "Cora": they're taking their cues from Law. In the original Japanese, Law calls Corazon "Cora-san", denoting a degree of respect. The Heart Pirates refer to Corazon the same way, so when you see them calling him "Cora", it's with the respect afforded by the "-san" honorific in mind. It doesn't translate well to English without the honorific, unfortunately, but that's the idea behind it. Normally I don't have a problem mixing Japanese phrases when writing English fics, but with this series I wanted to try something new.
> 
> Title from [Heartbreak, Heartbreak](https://youtu.be/Xa6QTiPRKVU) by Shoji Meguro, because Persona 4 Golden is now on PC and it is honestly all I can think about right now.


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